


Jocks in Love

by jewtube



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, brief blowjobs, little bit of anxiety but it passes quickly don't worry, loosely based off my school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewtube/pseuds/jewtube
Summary: Nate knows his dads love him more than anything, but that still doesn't stop anxieties from sneaking through and getting ahold of him. This complicates his relationship.





	Jocks in Love

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic posted to AO3! hope you like it!

Nate stretches his arms over his head as he jumps from the stairs beside the river. It’s early for most people, but practice ended around fifteen minutes ago and Nate didn’t really want to wait around for a vacant shower. The river is cold and refreshing, especially after an hour of suicides, his clothes sit close to the man-made shore consisting of steps leading into the water. He dunks his head under the current and thanks god that he’s a strong swimmer because the early morning undertow is pretty brutal.

“Guess someone didn’t get the memo that it’s still March.” He hears as his head breaks the surface. He rubs the excess water drops from his eyes, and in his newly clear vision, he sees Patrick sitting on the bench looking down at him.

“Some of us enjoy the cold, embracing our Canadian heritage.” He fires back with a smile, as he makes his way over to where the man is sitting. “Headed to practice?”  
Patrick nods his head as he looks at his watch, quarter past six.

“I still have fifteen before I have to be there, give your guys some more time to clear out of the locker rooms.” He winces as Nate splashes water on his legs.

“Hop in, bud.” Patrick smirks at the invite, and lets out a sarcastic groan as he pulls his shirt over his head. He drops his shorts and doesn’t hesitate jumping into the river alongside Nate. He stays underwater for a few seconds before breaking the surface beside his friend. They talk while treading water, getting closer with each kick. Patrick’s eyes are drawn to Nate’s pink lips, and he can’t help but stare. He moves in to close the gap between them and places his mouth on the other boys. Nate sighs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Patrick as his tongue finds its way into his mouth. They each melt as one kiss turns into another, the cold of the water forgotten.

“I gotta get to practice.” Patrick says once they broken the kiss. He pulls himself out of the water and grabs his things. “You still on for Seven?”

“Always.”  
\--

His dads helped him move into the house on his first day, insisting that they buy only secondhand despite their income, ‘for the really university experience.’ Whatever that means. His dad complained that he was staying in Canada for school, stating that Samwell is the place to be for hockey. Nate knew that wasn’t true, and his pop backed him up on it, hockey is hockey wherever you go. His pop was delighted he chose Otonabee because it was only an hour and half from Toronto, and despite saying he was ready for an empty nest, his pop was really nervous to let him go on his own.

“When I was in college I hated the lacrosse team.” His dad stated as he carried one end of a love seat up the porch steps.

“Fuuuuck the LAX bros!” His pop retaliated. His dad grinned ear to ear, revealing his monstrous teeth that always made Nate thankful he was adopted. It was this stupid bit they did whenever they talked about their old rivalry that never really made sense to Nate. His dad groaned as he  
set the furniture down in the living room, straightening his back and cracking it, mimicking an old man as he stretched.

“Now Nathaniel,” His dad placed a giant hand on his shoulder. You can definitely tell he’s adopted when they stand next to each other, both his fathers are over 6’1, and Nate is pushing 5’11. His pop had deep brown skin, and cheekbones that could kill a man, and Nate’s olive skin doesn’t really match his dad’s either.

“I know I talk a lot of shit about the LAX team,” His dad continued. “But I don’t want you to form some sort of toxic view of them. I want you to make friends at university! Just not the LAX bros because they’re all rats and I hate them.”

“Your father is trying to be funny.” His pop said while glaring at his husband. “What he means to say is that soccer players are really nice! Make friends with them!” Both his fathers laugh as they finish unpacking the boxes of dishes in the kitchen.

Nate waves goodbye to them from the front lawn and tries not to take what his dads said too seriously.  
—  
His first university party is great. It’s loud, it’s crowded, and there has to be over one hundred people packed into his turn of the century rental house. It’s only the third day at school and his roommates have the best party of the year. Drinks are given out freely, keg stands happen in the corner, and Nate manages a full 40 seconds in one. The rest of the hockey team are going crazy, but Nate is married to sleep. He can’t function properly unless he gets a full seven hours. So around the midnight mark he climbs the uneven stairs with blurry vision and makes his way down the hall into his room.

There are still unpacked boxes everywhere, one of which contains his pyjamas so he opts for sleeping in boxers tonight. He pulls the covers over his chest and scrolls through Instagram to see one of his roommates has posted a picture of his glorious keg stand. He makes it halfway down his Facebook feed before someone swings his door open. He flicks on the light before the stranger can get more than a few feet.

“Shit.” The stranger says. “Fuck. Sorry man, I thought this was the bathroom.” The stranger back towards the door. That’s when Nate notices he’s hot. Really hot. He’s got on a t-shirt that has the taco bell logo on it, and a backwards baseball hat that is hiding the fieriest of flows. Small curls of ginger hair peek out from underneath it and Nate does something he would have never done in Toronto.

“Uh, I have a personal one.” He says, gesturing towards a doorway in his room with the letters W and C on it. “You can use that one if you need it.”  
“Fuck, thank you man. I just gotta piss.” He walks towards the bathroom before turning back around. “I promise I won’t ralph in it.”

Nate’s mind is racing. He has no idea if it’s the alcohol or maybe just the timing that have him so nervous that this guy was peeing in his bathroom.

Nate has always known he’s bisexual. Having two dads could have been an factor, it also could have been that his father is a referee for the NHL, and no one could deny that a childhood spent surrounded by the goldmine of hockey asses could influence sexuality. But he’s never really been super into guys, or anyone really if we’re being honest. He’s had hookups and moments of sexual passion, but he’s never felt so gone on someone from only hearing a few words come out of their mouth.  
The door opens and hot stranger is walking towards Nate’s bed. His arm outstretched for a handshake that Nate sheepishly accepts.

“I’m Patrick.” He says confidently. “I really appreciate it. I think there’s a girl crying in the one downstairs?” Nate assumes he’s talking about the washroom.  
“No problem, I’m Nate.” He offers up. The hot stranger —Patrick — begins looking around his room. His eyes fall to Nate, and he’s suddenly painfully aware that he is sitting in his bed in front of probably the hottest guy he’s ever seen in fucking south park boxers. Patrick doesn’t seem to find it funny or embarrassing though, his eyes survey Nate’s chest and shoulders before dropping down to admire his legs.

He’s reading this wrong, he must be, but the alcohol is clouding his judgement. He stands up and stands face to face with Patrick.

“See something you like?” He says in a low voice.

“Fuck yeah.” Patrick moves in and catches Nate’s lips on his. His hands reach up to cup his face, which is sprinkled with stubble. His tongue slips itself into Nate’s mouth and his shoulders relax and he breaths into the kiss. Nate’s hands find themselves under the baseball hat and into the red curls of Patrick’s hair, before dropping down to his waist and pulling his pelvis closer. Nate fiddles with the bottom of his shirt, and Patrick nods as his shirt is pulled over his head. They move quickly to the bed where Nate plants kiss after kiss to Patrick’s neck and shoulders. He drops and kisses his chest, working his way down to the hem of his pants.

“I’ve never been with a guy.” Patrick gasps as jeans are unbuttoned.

“I can lead if you want.” He nods as Nate pulls his pants down, freeing his cock. He wraps a hand around the shaft and pumps. Patrick is gone above him, gasping and trying desperately to be quiet. He almost shouts when Nate’s lips close around the head of his penis and his cheeks hollow out as he sucks.

“Fuck — I’m not gonna last!” Patrick stammers out, while Nate shows no interest in slowing down. A muffled cry is all the warning his gives before Nate sucks him through his orgasm. Patrick’s hands a desperate to hold the enormous boner that Nate is displaying. It’s the same principle as masturbating except it’s not your dick. He pumps his cock with twirling motions and Nate lets out tiny noises that give him the confidence to keep going. Nate comes without warning on his own chest, and shivers through the aftershocks. A dirty shirt is the only thing close enough to reach without leaving the bed, and they use it to clean up.

“You can stay here.” Nate says into Patrick’s shoulder as they lie together in the bed. He smiles and rolls onto his side and plants a kiss onto his lips. It’s the best sleep that they’ve both had in a while.  
—  
“Do your dads really hate the Lacrosse team?” Patrick asks over breakfast, sometime in January. “Like, do they really not want you hanging out with us?”

“They just have this weird thing from college.” Nate says before shoving an entire hardboiled egg into his mouth.

“But will they be bothered that you’re dating the Captain of the Lacrosse team?” He sounds worried. His forehead goes all wrinkly when he gets nervous, Nate thinks it’s adorable, but the wrinkles make more frequent than usual appearances the closer and closer they get to parents weekend.

“Babe relax, when they meet you they’re going to love you.” Nate reaches out to hold his boyfriend’s hand from across the table.

“Did you even tell them I’m on the LAX team?”

“It might have slipped my mind when I told them about you.” Nate quickly stands up to put his plate in the sink, trying to avoid Patrick’s face when he learns that fact.

“Dude! What the hell?” He turns to look at him. His face is covered in disappointment and hurt. Fuck, he hates hurting him. He should have just told his dads. “Nathaniel Birkholtz are you fucking ashamed of me?”

“No. No no no no no.” He cups his boyfriends face in his hands, but he shoves him away. “Baby no. I would never be ashamed of you.”

“Fuck you!” Patrick spits at him, tears welling in his eyes. “If you don’t want to tell your dads about me then you don’t fucking have to. I’m fucking done Natty.”  
He’s out the door before Nate can say anything. Before Nate can tell him that he loves him, before Nate can even tell himself he loves him. He sinks to the floor, wet sobs filling the now empty kitchen, tears hitting the tiles beneath him.  
—  
The worst part about being adopted is not knowing where you came from. According to the foster home, Braden was dropped off at a fire station when he was about nine months old. He bounced from foster home to foster home until one day he got a nasty chest infection and winded up in the paediatric ward that Justin Oluransi’s worked in. He was two when him and his husband, Adam, adopted Braden and changed his name to Nathaniel. Due to being abandoned without any information, Nate has no idea who his parents could be. Which means he has no idea what traits he could have inherited. he does know he’s always had anxiety, the kind that cripples you, and keeps you from telling those you love the things that could hurt them. The kind that makes you paralyzed when telling someone that you can’t make it to something, or that you’ve failed. The tricky part of that kind of anxiety is that you can’t just hide everything from everyone to avoid getting hurt.

“Hey Pop.” It’s four in the morning, and he’s got an empty bottle of wine next to him.

“Hey kiddo, what’s up.” His pop was always the one to wake up when he called. “Something the matter?”

“He was the captain, Pop.” The tears have started again. He’s surprised he still has tears to cry at this point. It’s been a week since he’s seen Patrick, he won’t answer his calls or texts.

“What do you mean, buddy. Who was the captain?”

“Patrick. He was the captain of the Lacrosse team.”

“So? Why are you telling me this? Why are you crying?”

“I love him and he wanted me to tell you but I was scared.” He sobs are becoming more frantic and painful.

“Son, why are you crying? Do you need me to come get you? Where is Patrick?” 

“He left me. He left me because you hate the LAX bros.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” His father is walking now, he closes a door. He probably doesn’t want to wake Nate’s dad.

“I didn’t — huh — tell you that —huh — he was a lax bro cause I know you’d hate him.”

“Nathaniel, we do not care in the least who you date as long as you are happy.” His pop’s voice has softened, he was always so much better at handling Nate’s freakouts than his own. “Those stupid things we said about the Lacrosse team are mostly jokes. And when they’re not? They’re about Samwell’s Lacross team, not Otonabee’s.”

“Oh.” It’s all he can say.

“Do you feel better? Can I go back to bed? I have a bunch of interns to mentor tomorrow and I could use the sleep.” He pop sounds like he’s already made it back to his bed.

“Yeah.” Nate breath out heavily. “Thanks, Pop.”   
—  
Patrick still will not answer Nate’s, so he goes to his dorm room. It took some convincing but the RA let him into the building without a key, on the condition that if Patrick told him to leave he would, or she would call the police. Nate knocked loudly on the door of his room, and heard a shuffling inside. Patrick opened the door.

“Hello?” He looks like shit. Like he’s been crying for hours. He looks up to find Nate’s face. “Go away.”

“I told my dads.” Nate shoves his foot in between the door and the frame. “I told them that I’m in love with you and they don’t care that you’re a Lax bro.” Patrick opens the door slowly.

“You told your dads that you love me before you told me that you love me?” Patrick sighs as he pulls Nate in by his wrists.

“I love you.”

“I know that now, but still your dads knew before me?”

“I love you.”

“I know! You told me already.” Patrick’s tears are dried up on his cheek that are now rounded by his smile.

“I love you.” Nate moves to pull him into an embrace. 

“Stop saying ‘I love you’, you moron.” He’s laughing now.

“I’m never gonna stop saying it.” He plants a kiss on Patrick’s cheek. “At least not until you say it back.”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed my fic, if you wanna talk about it or how it can improve you can find me at Jew-tube.tumblr.com!


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